


Moonlight

by katehathaway



Series: Only Everything [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Tragedy, Childhood Trauma, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Fantasy, Dark Magic, Draco falls in love with this maiden in the forest and will do anything to save her, Eventual Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Good Draco Malfoy, Hermione is stolen away as a child because of her powerful magical abilities, Historical Fantasy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Manipulative Tom Riddle, POV Hermione Granger, Partial Mind Control, Prince Draco Malfoy, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Soulmates, Tom manipulates her into his perfect weapon, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katehathaway/pseuds/katehathaway
Summary: Where there is a handsome and noble prince, there is an innocent and benevolent maiden whom requires rescuing from a curse bestowed upon her. It is also true that where there is power, there is a man prepared to seize it at any cost.This story has many elements (twisted fairytale, soulmates, historical fantasy, etc) but it does take place in an AU where Potterverse magic exists and is quite a dark read.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Only Everything [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788676
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend listening to this playlist while you read:
> 
> Once Upon a Dream (Lana Del Rey)  
> lovely (Billie Eilish and Khalid)  
> Wonderland (Taylor Swift)  
> Graveyard (Halsey)  
> Moonlight (Ariana Grande)  
> Toxic (Melanie Martinez)
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

_Once upon a time... in a land of magic, there existed three brothers whom were granted three artefacts of magic from Death himself that were each unique and extremely powerful. Before greeting Death again, the brothers agreed to split these artefacts among the pure bloodlines of magic that stemmed from each of them._

_To the Potter family, the cloak of invisibility. To the royal Malfoy family, the Elder Wand. To the Gaunt family, the Resurrection Stone._

_Outside of the magical kingdom, and deep within the dark forest, lived a young girl who had been kidnapped at birth and raised by the man she believed to be her true father. He taught her wonderful things like caring for magical creatures and transfiguring a glass into a beautiful slipper and how to live with her curse._

* * *

The pressure from her father's hand is too much, and by the time she reaches the small clearing just beyond the garden, her hand is numb and aches with a dull pain. When her father is not looking, the young child rubs her hand and winces from the pleasure of the pain as the muscles begin to relax. Her father steps away for a moment and returns with a dandelion. He holds it out to her, and she takes it between her plump, child fingers.

"Now, my sweet rose," Her father says to her with a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. "Like we practiced – and _concentrate_."

The dandelion blows in the wind, each of its seeds soaring through the crisp air, seemingly lost forever. She does as her father tells her because he is clever and knows magic very well. He is a good teacher, and she wants to impress him above everything else.

It is difficult for her to focus because all she can think about is how hungry she is and how badly she wants to curl up in her favorite spot by the fireplace with her new berry juice and some unmarked parchment to paint a pretty picture. Then, she lets her mind wander to the idea of taking a wondrous nap because all of this practicing is exhausting.

The seeds of the dandelion all fly away and she pouts. Her father's blue eyes darken as he hands her the next weed. "Again," he says.

She does as he wishes because he loves her, takes care of her, teaches her, and she wants to make him proud. She _has_ to.

Finally, after the third dandelion is placed in her small hands – and her father's mouth has twisted into a deep scowl – she manages to succeed. All of the seeds of the dandelion float through the air and find their way back onto the weed, into the precise place they had been before the wind carried them away.

The young girl looks up to her father and feels the corners of her lips turning into a shy smile. He doesn't say anything at first, and she begins to deflate, but then he rests a hand on her shoulder and tells her, "Well done, my little tulip."

Then, her demon pokes its head up; in her mind she can feel its red eyes fixated on the dandelion, and its claws scrape at her thoughts, petting them. Its voice is scary, and she can't help but raise her little hands to cover her ears even though she knows it won't make him go away.

_Burn the weed._

"But I fixed it," the child protests, trying her best not to babble. The demon doesn't like it when she babbles.

_Burn it, child, or I will burn your little cottage to the ground._

She swallows and meets her father's eye; he can tell from the expression on her face that her demon has just told her to do something. He waits patiently, if a little nervous, and his eyes never leave her.

Her chubby hand, the one not clutching the dandelion, waves over the pretty little weed and it instantly catches on fire. She drops it and backs away quickly, into her father's arms, and she watches as the beautiful plant is destroyed with no trace is left behind that it ever existed.

_Very good, child._

Then, her father leads her back towards their cottage and promises her a slice of apple pie before her next lesson.

* * *

_As the young child grew, she became more and more skilled at magic. Her father was relentless in his teachings and made sure she knew everything he wanted her to know about spells and charms and other things. However, her curse taught her dark magic, honing her into the perfect weapon for his destruction, though at the age of eleven, the young girl would not realize his intentions._

_Meanwhile, in the kingdom of magic, the young girl's absence goes unnoticed. She was the only child of a muggle couple whom did not know that their child was magic, therefore did not report her as missing to the magical authorities, but to the muggle ones._

_The young girl's supposed father, conversely, was one of the most wanted people in the entire magical kingdom. He was presumed to be the murderer of his family, and the King of Magic, Lucius, knew that his particular family was responsible for holding one of the Hallows. With it and him missing, there was much speculation among wizards and witches of an uprising._

* * *

The night of her eleventh birthday, the young girl dreams as she normally does but there is something new and she finds herself drawn to it, curiosity overwhelming her better judgement.

Her mind is an exact replica of the enchanted lake she visits as often as she can – it is the farthest her father will let her wander away from the security of the cottage, but it feels infinitely safer as it is the only place that she has been to so far where the demon does not disturb her. In her sleep, however, he is able to accompany her and often does, hooded to obscure his ethereal body. The only thing visible beneath his dark cloak are his crimson red eyes.

However, when the young girl first slips into her dreamland, the demon is nowhere to be found. She enjoys the moment of reprieve before his inevitable apparition to her side and decides to wander along the bank of the lake where it meets the forest. In the corner of her eye, she notices a rabbit hole in the trunk of one of the trees.

That has never been there before.

Detrimentally curious, as young witches tend to be, she kneels in her peasant dress and peers into the abyss of the hole, unsure what she is looking for exactly but looking, nonetheless. Then, she is sucked into it and deposited roughly beneath the earth.

The roots of the trees line the ceiling of what appears the be an intricate tunnel of sorts. It is not tall enough for her to walk upright, so she is forced to crawl around, following a glowing green light further and further into the muddy tunnel.

It leads her to a small wooden door and disappears into the lock, lighting up the entire underground in a brilliant and bright flash of green. Once she dares to open her eyes, and they adjust to the darkness again, she sees the door is ajar and peers through it.

There is nothing, only blackness.

But then there are flashes of images made up of thousands of dust particles, and all of them are of someone she has never met but instantly feels drawn to. It is impossible to get an exact image of his entire portrait, but she is able to make out distinct features of his face that will have to satisfy her for the time being.

Lips full, and parting just enough to exhale a shaky breath. Eyes grey and intense like those of storm clouds threatening to break overhead. A small signet gold ring on a pinky finger, either displaying an M or a W; the image gone before you could discover which it was for certain.

Something jerks her out of the darkness, and she blinks to find herself sitting at the bottom of the tree without any rabbit hole in sight. Then, the voice of her nightmares sounds behind her.

_Hello, child. What have you got there?_

And because she doesn't wish for him to have her thoughts of the young boy she saw in the rabbit hole, she securely hides them in a vault in her mind; she quickly creates an inconspicuous rock with a wave of her hand and stuffs the memories deep underneath it so that her demon may never tarnish them or hold them against her.

The next morning at breakfast her father asks how she slept, and she wants to tell him about the rabbit hole and the images of the boy, but she bites down on her tongue to refrain from doing so, forcing another defense in her mind to protect her thoughts from her demon.

Besides, she has a feeling she would know exactly what her father would say about her dream. He would disapprove and be very upset with her; he has made it very clear that she is not to be around other people for their own protection.

"Your demon may decide it wants you to harm them, my sugary carnation," he would say. "I have kept you hidden from the kingdom for this very reason, and I know you feel lonely sometimes, but that is why you have your forest creatures. They will be your friends."

Except, once the young girl reached her teen years, the demon decided that wasn't going to be the case.

The young girl, now thirteen, goes to visit a porlock in the garden and smiles down at him, giving his tiny horns a gentle rub because she knows that's what he likes.

_I do not like this creature of yours, child. I do not think he would make a good companion of ours as he has no useful talent to harness._

"Why should that matter?" She asks because now she is starting to feel little bits of rebellion bubbling in her veins.

_Do not question me. Ah, there – see that phoenix over there on the tall tree? Tame it._

"I can't climb up that!"

_Trust me, child. I will help you. You can climb it._

She swallows, unsure what to do. It's not like she has a choice – she never has a choice – but the tree is exceptionally tall and in order to even get close to the fiery bird she would have to climb very, _very_ high.

True to form, her demon enables her to make it up the tree without a scratch and now she's coaxed the bird into letting her hold it. She clutches the bird to her chest and stares down at the ground below, gulping loudly at the sheer height.

_Jump._

"What?" She croaks. "I'll die!"

_You will not. Remember?_

Oh, yes. The gift her father gave her last year. He told her it was because she was finally becoming a young woman of notable age and deserved to have a beautiful piece of jewelry. He gave her a ring that had belonged to the family for years, decades, generations, or so he claimed.

"It is very powerful, my honeyed amaryllis," her father had said as he placed the ring on her finger and charmed it to fit perfectly.

"Are you sure it's safe for me to have it?" She had responded, frowning at the black gem gleaming ominously on her finger.

"Yes," he nodded. "It is very important that you wear it at all times. It will protect you, my lovely lavender."

The girl did as he asked, of course, because she trusted him, and he had never lied to her before. He always kept her safe and alive and taught her how to endure the demon in her head. Then, unfortunately, she quickly found out what was so powerful about the sinister stone that had been in her family for generations.

The dark magic the demon had been teaching her one morning had been flowing from her body and it had begun searing every fiber inside of her, burning and destroying her from the inside out. She couldn't stop though because if she did, then the demon would kill her father. Eventually, however, her mortal body did give out and she collapsed to the ground.

Thanks to the ring, she would wake hours later. Every bone, every muscle, every part of her hummed with pain, but then her trusty little demon would resurface in her mind and tell her not to worry, he will fix her.

 _Jump_ , he says again now, piercing her worrisome thoughts.

She takes a deep breath and clutches the poor bird to her chest to cradle him from the fall because he does not have a magical resurrecting stone to protect him, and then she jumps.

Unfortunately, now the girl knows that having to unbreak every single one of her bones is as unpleasant as one would imagine, which is not ideal, but the process is accelerated by dark magic taught by the incorporeal red-eyed demon living in her; a parasite to its humble host.

* * *

_The young maiden, just shy of her nineteenth birthday, has become a very gifted witch and her demon was sure to reap the rewards of her studies soon enough. In the meantime, she has focused on being an obedient host, loyal daughter, and beloved caretaker of her forest pets._

_Since she has not dared to venture outside of the dark forest – and the wizards and witches of the magical kingdom unwilling to venture inside it – she has no friends outside of her forest pets. The young maiden only ever has her demon and her father for company, and when she was brave enough to go down her rabbit hole, the glimpses of her golden boy._

_It was still very unclear to her why or how she kept seeing him, but she knew it was pure enough to tempt her demon into corrupting it, so she kept the visions hidden deep within the maze of her mind. She would never know, of course, how truly valuable her occlumency and legilimens talents were._

* * *

A talon scrapes at the base of her orbital bone, summoning her.

_Well, let's see what progress you made, shall we?_

The young maiden sighs and gathers her tan skirts from the floor, packs up her notes on runes, and tells her father that she must go outside for a bit. He doesn't question it. The air is crisp and cool as summer is finally starting to turn to autumn and soon, she will be nineteen.

The phoenix, which she named Hugo, is soaring through the sky and disappearing through the red and orange tinted leaves with effortless camouflage. In a single whistle, he changes course and swoops down to perch on her extended arm. His claws pierce her skin but by now she is no stranger to pain, and this is hardly of consequence. Hugo is her friend and has been her pet for nearly six years now.

Hugo had been difficult to train, but it had paid off as he is now the most loving wild animal she has ever known. He knows her well and she knows him, and above all he has brought her so much joy – which is something she never would have dreamed of experiencing given her curse.

The demon claws at her thoughts and memories of Hugo, reviewing her method, and it latches on to her mind with its talons. She winces and Hugo immediately scoots further up her arm so that he may rub his pretty red head against her and comfort her. In return, she strokes his fiery feathers and murmurs what a good boy he is.

_You have failed me, child._

"What? No. I tamed him, just look – look at the memories – at how adoring he is. How loyal." She pleads, struggling to grasp at what the demon wants but can feel its ugly head turning violent.

_You did not tame him. You broke him. He is not obedient. He is ruined._

"But - "

_Kill him._

"No," she chokes. "I – I can't!"

_Very well, then I will do it for you._

"No!"

_It must be done, child._

The maiden gapes at Hugo, at his beautiful dark eyes and feel her large, brown ones start to tear up at the thought of being without him. He was everything to her and she cannot imagine going on without her only friend.

"I don't want to see it," she finally says because she knows the demon will get its way; it always does.

 _Then, don't._ _I don't care._

So, she hides.

She disappears deep into her mind and walks along the edge of the forest, trying to focus on the mirrored lake and its intriguing occupants below in order to think of something – _anything_ – except the fact that the demon is currently taking over her body and killing her beloved friend and pet.

She is pulled from her subconscious to the forefront of her mind again and the demon stretches its claws as it walks away and hides in whatever part of her body it hides in when it is not poking around her head. Her muscles are spent and sore; there is mud and blood all over her and she hastily wipes her hands on her dress as she blinks back tears. Then, despite the exhaustion, she sprints away from the cottage and toward the lake.

Being without her demon, even for a short while, brings salvation to her mind. In this safe place, far from where his claws can reach in and take hold of her, she leans back on a tree trunk and lets her mind wander toward the rabbit hole.

Unfortunately, the rock idea back in the day hadn't worked. The next time she went to visit it, the memories were gone. So, now, she must go down the rabbit hole whenever it appears and crawl through the underground tunnel to open the door at the end if she wants to glimpse at the golden boy who enchants her dreams.

The boy grows as she does and is practically a man now just as she is a woman. As they both age there are new discoveries that intrigue her. He has fair hair, and after being gifted an up-close vision with the sun shining down on it, she realized that it is not necessarily blond as she once thought. Each strand is silvery and translucent, barely containing any color whatsoever, but when they layer on top of one another, they shine a brilliant gold.

He is quite beautiful from what she can tell; his cheekbones are sharp and angular while his jaw is equally as prominent. His bone structure is attractive, but it is his eyes that take her breath away, and it is them that she looks forward to seeing every time she goes down the rabbit hole.

A small peck at her bare feet followed by chirping brings her back to reality with an abrupt gasp. There are two blue birds hopping excitedly around her lap before they take flight and perch in her disastrous curls.

"What is it?" She asks them.

The chirp enthusiastically and lead her toward a small clearing between the forest and the lake where there are two rabbits bouncing happily around in worn riding boots and a black raven peering at her from beneath a pile of embroidery.

"What in the world," she ponders aloud as she approaches the forest creatures.

The young maiden lifts up the fine fabrics and scrutinizes them; it appears to be some sort of velvet cloak of a blue so dark and mysterious, lined with a sparkling silver thread, that reminds her of the twinkling night sky. Then, a bowtruckle appears from a low hanging branch with a delicate silver crown.

"Where did you get these?" She asks the critters.

Instead of looking shamefully away, they instead exchange what must be their version of mischievous grins and begin to ensemble in a poor representation of a prince. The raven, as the main frame of the prince from beneath the cape, flaps its wings as the bowtruckle sits nervously on top of its head and blue birds swoop in to hold out the edges in a makeshift proffered hand.

"Why," she gasps, giggling a bit at the strange sight. "I would love this dance. Thank you, kind sir."

So, the young maiden dances with her forest creatures because they are all she has left that brings her happiness these days aside from the glimpses of the golden boy in her dreams. In the back of her mind, she wonders if it would be possible to run away from home; if the demon would somehow not follow her. She didn't know very much about her curse and hadn't previously been inclined enough to experiment with what the demon would allow.

But then she thinks of her Father, and not only of his loneliness but also of his warnings that she as not to be around other people, so really – where would she even go? Even though her father is always distant and moody, and she can't figure out how to please him anymore, she still loves him and would never want to leave him alone.

So, she decides to treat yourself to a silly, childish dance in the forest because she has no desire to return to the cottage and to her demon just yet.

She is not a very good dancer – her father never saw the purpose of her learning such a thing because despite being a maiden, there were no chances of her attending any celebrations where there could be hundreds of innocents for her demon to make into victims – and it takes a few minutes for her to twirl alongside the imaginary prince before she is no longer stepping on the rabbits play-pretending to be his boots.

Suddenly, the weight of her partner changes and the cloak feels much less like soft, buttery velvet and much more like rough, stable hands.

"Oh," she gasps as she stops spinning to see an actual man standing before her.

He smiles at the young maiden beatifically before bending to bow. She drops into a quick and horrific curtsy because she honestly has no idea how to curtsy, only that it was a customary greeting for women, or so her father used to mention in his bedtime stories.

"I'm awfully sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Oh, it – it wasn't that," she lies as she shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

He is dressed impeccably well, and it is clear that the forest creatures stole his clothing for her entertainment. There is a knowing look in his eyes, and their hue takes her by surprise. If she didn't know better, she would say that the slate grey was that of the one from her dreams.

But that couldn't be possible…

"Then what was it?" He prompts, his mouth turning upward into a smug smile.

"Well, you are a – a stranger."

He takes her in his and traces the lines of her palm slowly, methodically, and with a gentle touch she's never experienced before. It is suddenly very difficult for her to expand her lungs and take in air; the spark of electricity from his touch is turning her brain to mush and she finds it extremely difficult to protest his touch with a dry throat.

"I'm not a stranger," he says; his hand intertwining your fingers as the other reaches up to caress her face. Astonishingly, to her, she doesn't flinch or recoil. "We've met before, don't you remember?"

The maiden blinks.

"That's not possible. We've never met. I've never met anyone…" she says, and her words trail off as she manages to refrain from adding that she's certainly never met anyone _like him_ before.

"Oh, yes," his hand cups her cheek for a moment before sliding behind her ear to tuck the loose tendrils of hair out of her face. "I would recognize these abominable curls anywhere."

She coughs, "I beg your pardon?"

"I meant no offense," he claims with a smirk.

She struggles to believe him but opts to focus on the more prominent matter at hand as she steps away from his touch. "We've never met," the young woman insists.

"Of course, we have," the young man states simply, and a hint of a genuine smile flashes across his features before he schools his face into its original state of mockery. "Once upon a dream, don't you remember?"

"I – What?"

But then it hits her, and she knows that he's right. She _has_ met him before. He is the golden boy from the depths of her dreams; it is quite obvious now, after she searches his face again, that his cheekbones, jaw, and fair hair are all the same, and the gleam in his alluring eyes is so familiar a gleam.

"You," she breathes incredulously.

When he reaches for her hand again, she doesn't pull away. "Me," he smirks.

Suddenly, her heart swells with an unfamiliar warmth and it spreads over the length of her body, coursing through her veins. It feels as if her body is buzzing with energy, excited and nervous, and her stomach flutters and flips at the new rush. It is unlike anything she's ever felt before as it has absolutely no sinister feeling seeping through the cracks – there is no promise that the adrenaline will subside as the demon reappears to direct her magic and power elsewhere… somewhere more wicked.

It is pure and breathtaking, and she never wants to let it go.

"What is your name?" The young man asks, tipping the maiden's chin up. He brushes his thumb down the sensitive skin of her neck which is pulsing harder and stronger with every breath she takes in his proximity.

"My – my name?" She mumbles.

He nods, and she can tell he's stifling a chuckle. But then the pretty picture and warm feeling fades, leaving her facing the ugly truth of her reality. The young maiden is left shivering from the cold as she, once again, steps out of his gentle touch.

"I can't. I'm sorry. It's – it's too dangerous."

His face contorts into melancholy and misunderstanding, but she turns swiftly to leave before the expression across his face breaks her fragile, glass heart.

"Wait!" He calls out, grasping at her wrist to pull her back towards him. "Please," he begs. "When can I see you again?"

"Oh, you can't!" She wails, "I can never see you again. Never."

"But – but we're – " He sputters.

"I have to go," she shouts, tugging free from him and sprinting further into the woods. He trails behind, of course, and she has to stop brusquely to stare at him with wide, wild eyes. "Don't you see? I'm dangerous. I could hurt you… and I don't want to hurt you."

"Then, don't." He shakes his head and sighs, "I must see you again. You don't understand."

There is an uncomfortable fluttering in the maiden's chest as the desires of her heart battle the fear of the demon returning to rule her mind and body. Then, miraculously, her heart wins against her logical brain.

The maiden finally chokes out, "Tomorrow. Midnight. Here."

He lets go of her hand that time, and she races as fast as she can back to the cottage before her father begins to worry or, more likely, the demon decides to punish her absence by having _her_ punish her father the minute she returns.

* * *

_The kingdom of magic rejoiced: their darling prince has found his princess! Joy to the world! Long live the future king and queen!_

_The young prince begged his parents, the king and queen, to give him a bit more time with the young maiden before he must ask her to accompany him back to the kingdom – to the palace and her place at his side. Royalty can be lonely and treacherous, for one is never quite certain who is friend or foe and the young prince worried that the magical bond they shared would not be enough for her to stay._

_He worried that_ he _would not be enough for her._

* * *

The young maiden wakes the next morning to find her room in complete ruin. The draperies are torn and shredded, blowing uselessly in the wind; the old wooden chair and writing desk are in pieces, splintering everywhere; books are strewn over the floor with their pages ripped and bloodied.

There is a coppery, acidic taste in her mouth and she instantly fights back the bile rising in her swollen throat.

 _There, there, child,_ the demon coos in the base of her skull sounding unapologetic and unsympathetic, _I will teach you a simple spell to mend everything._

"What happened?" She tentatively inquires.

Ever since the incident with Hugo, the demon has left the maiden out of whatever evil he entertains himself with; her subconscious steps swiftly aside to let him take the reins, and then when it is all over, she wakes knowing nothing of what malevolence he performed in her body.

_You were especially defensive last night. If I find out that you've been hiding something from me, there will more hell to pay than a messy room I can assure you._

She nods absently, then follows his instructions as to how to bring the room back to its original state of order.

Downstairs, her father is staring into the fireplace with an obscure expression. He says nothing and spares her no glance, so she leaves the cottage to wander about the garden, busying herself with mundane tasks. It takes much effort to protect her daydreaming from the demon's clutches, and it will take much more effort to sneak away tonight, but she tries not to think about that.

Her father is asleep in the room across from her, and she cannot feel her demon stirring in her thoughts. Taking advantage of his elsewhere-ness in her body, the maiden quickly throws a cloak on over her shift and tip-toes downstairs, wincing every time the old wood creaks beneath her bare feet.

The sodden earth squishes between her toes and the tall luscious grass tickles her ankles as she makes her way through the sinister forest and to the clearing by the enchanted lake of which she is so fond of; unsurprising but much to her delight, she arrives without any inkling of a demon lurking in the shadows of her mind.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," the young nobleman says when she emerges from the fog.

The maiden holds tightly onto the cloak around her shoulders, shivering with nerves. "It was impossible not to," she admits with a sheepish smile.

He nods understandingly, "I know the feeling. It's quite interesting, don't you think? I mean, it's all anyone can talk about after their eleventh birthday but still… there are no words for the pull once you've met them."

She blinks, then frowns as he guides her along the edge of the clearing to a wool blanket he laid out. His wording is entirely confusing, but the last part nags at her above the rest of it.

"Met who?"

"Your soulmate, of course," he answers with a roguish grin. Then, probably from the way she looks at him as if he spontaneously grew an extra head, blinks and studies her face. "When I said I knew you from a dream, you know I meant - "

"Yes," she says, cutting him off impatiently. "I knew what you meant. You started seeing images of someone else on your eleventh birthday?"

"Visions of you – pieces of you, like a puzzle – yes. It's part of the magic of it."

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, hating how confused she feels. Her father never let her feel like this; he was always adamant about her studies and the importance of knowing everything there is to know about a spell. The devil is in the details, but so is the key, he would tell her.

"Of what?" She demands, blinking up at the young man. His blond hair falls slightly onto his forehead; she desperately wants to reach out and touch it.

He sighs, "Soulmates, like I said – I don't – Didn't your family, your parents, ever tell you about it? Every child of magic knows about it."

"Father never mentioned it…" She says trailing off, wondering if that was why he was always asking how she slept or if she met anyone in the woods when she was younger. After a few months of denying it – because it had only been in her dream and couldn't possibly have meant anything – he had eventually let it go and stopped asking about it.

"Well," he said, plucking at the blades of grass around them. "That's a shame. But no matter – you have me, now so…"

He made it sound so simple, so certain, and it brings a smile to her face because she _believes_ him. For some obscure and unknown reason, it is true. She has him, and he has her.

In her mind, something clicks into place.

The maiden finds herself in her rabbit hole again, crawling to the end of the tunnel but instead of falling into a dark abyss, there is a new world on the other side of the small wooden door. A bridge of intertwining roots and vines forms and leads her across the lake to an unknown and unexplored place; a wonderland of sorts amidst her haunting mind and she instantly knows that it is free from her demon. It is too pure for him to be allowed into it. The sun shines on a field of poppies; in the distance, there is a towering castle.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

There he is: her golden boy and, apparently, her soulmate. It was something she didn't quite think she could ever get used to.

"Where are we?" She asks because last she could remember, the two of them were sitting on the blanket in the clearing and this opulent place didn't very much feel like reality.

"In a dreamland," he confirms. "This particular part," he says, gesturing to the flower field, "exists somewhere between both of our mindscapes. It belongs to us."

"But – wait – what?"

He shrugs, "I've never been here before now which I presume is because we never officially met before now but… I only know what I can gather from what others have told me and everyone's experiences are different so…"

Her face scrunches up dubiously, "Others?"

"Yes," he says, looking at her and raising a single silver brow which makes her instantly envious of his ability to do so. "Other soulmates."

"Oh," she gasps. "So, every pair has a – a dreamland – of their own?" He nods, and her eyes wander from the spacious field of crimson poppies to the stone structure sitting at the top of the hill in the distance. "Is that supposed to be your mindscape?"

The young man nods again, then takes her hand and faces the bewitched woodlands on the other side of the bridge, "I'm guessing that must be yours then." He arches another brow down at her and adds, "How do you organize your thoughts, protect them, when there are no doors?"

She shrugs, offering him a teasing smile. "Rabbit holes." At that, he laughs, and it lights up his entire face, showering her in its warm golden glow and bringing her to an unknown state of elation.

There is a pull, an invisible hand tugging at her, and she blinks to find herself back in the physical world with him sitting beside her and his hands brushing back her wild curls.

"What's your name?" He murmurs in the breath of space between their faces.

"I don't know," the maiden admits, then hurries to explain. "I haven't heard it for years, since I was a baby. Or perhaps, not even then. I really can't remember." He opens his mouth to respond, but she goes on. "Father usually calls me endearing nick names and the – Err, never mind."

"No name?" He repeats. "Really?"

She shakes her head, "No."

"Well, that's – Wait – Surely, your friends don't call you silly pet names?" His eyes, a gorgeous dark grey, search her face and her heart aches at having to crush his hopes.

"I don't have any…" she whispers.

"I – I thought you were joking when you said… You've truly never met anyone else?"

She swallows, her fingers clenching and unclenching in the palms of her hands, leaving angry red crescents behind. "No. It's always been just Father and I," and her demon, but she leaves that part out, though it unhelpfully reminds her that her happiness here, with him, will be short-lived.

"Hm," he muses.

One of his hands drops to tilt her chin up, and her breath hitches at the gleam in his eyes.

She has never been kissed – obviously – but now she desperately wants to be. She wants him, this precious golden boy of hers, and she is desperate to have him. No matter the cost. No matter how deeply she will suffer for it later. A second with him, touching him and being touched by him, is more than worth it.

"What is your name?" She asks, though it comes out at barely more than a whisper, lost in the midnight winds.

"You don't know who I am?" He asks her. The maiden shakes her head, and points out that as she mentioned before she has never met anyone and therefore how could she possibly know who he is? He scoffs, and a disbelieving smile pulls at his lips. Lips she very much wanted to taste. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he says, then pauses.

Unhelpfully, her brain chooses that moment to notice the silver shimmer in his golden hair and identifies it as a petite crown – the very same crown the bowtruckle stole the day before.

"You're… royalty?" She ventures.

"A prince," he confirms with a chuckle. "You really are quite secluded out here, aren't you?"

"Yes," she mutters, trying to fight the heat rising to her pale cheeks. "I'm not allowed to be around other people. I'm dangerous."

"You said that before," the prince points out. "What does that mean?"

"I - " She knows that she should trust him; her heart implores her to. He is her soulmate after all, and this cannot be a trick of the mind. It would be far too elaborate for the demon, who detests complex torment. "I'm cursed," she manages to say.

Once again, the maiden let her heart win the battle – she has no doubt it will win the war as well, if it were up to her.

"Cursed?" He blinks, and she nods. "What kind of curse?" The maiden bit her lip, hesitant to reveal more about herself; soulmate or not, she only just met him. Luckily, the young prince seems to pick up on her uncertainty, and adds, "One a handsome prince might be able to remedy?"

He taunts her with a crooked smile.

The young maiden bites her lip because in all honesty, she has no idea and therefore what could she possibly tell him? Instead of answering truthfully, she elects to return his coquettish expression with a teasing smirk of her own and whispers, "Who said you were handsome?"

"Oh!" He cries out, laughing. "How enthralling! The fair maiden doth bite after all," then wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her down to the soft blanket, bracing himself on top of her. "You are so beautiful," he says, and her heart momentarily stops.

"Draco," the maiden says, tasting his name on your tongue. It is bittersweet. "That's a constellation, isn't it?"

His eyes sparkle like the night sky and she knows with absolute certainty that the name is too apt for it not to have been his fate. Then, he confirms as much. "Yes. Constellation names are a bit of a family tradition." His lips remain parted as he pauses, and his eyes drop to study her face.

"That's lovely," she whispers in response, daring to let her dexterous hands explore his strong arms and solid back.

If he is hers, as both of their dreams prove true, then it would not be a sin to be so intimate with him would it? Though, even if it were, she considers that it would be worth it to have him all to herself regardless.

No matter the cost, she thinks, she will have him.

"You are so beautiful," the prince says again, his eyes glazing over like he's lost in a trance. "The way you glow it's mesmerizing and captivating and – right here – the way the moonlight catches your eyes? – I never knew you could hold moonlight until now, holding you in my arms."

"Draco," she breathes, but he's still lost in his trance, looking down at her like you are the answer to his prayers; the one he has spent his whole life searching for – and perhaps it's true. Perhaps she feels the same way.

"Moonlight," he repeats again, barely above a whisper. "May I call you that? Moonlight?"

The young maiden nods, feeling tears prick at her eyes because this is the first time that she can ever remember wanting to burst with so much happiness and content.

It will prove very difficult for her to contain such strong emotions a secret from her demon, but she has lived with him for nineteen years now and her mind was as strong as stone – as impenetrable and invincible as ever. She would protect her memories and her emotions of her prince with everything she had.

Every look he gives her, and every smile… there is no denying that he already has her heart. Every brush of his thumb against her cheek, and every almost-kiss… makes her want to give him her body.

A sinister thought creeps into the forefront of the maiden's thoughts, disrupting the magical moment between her and her prince, and she bites back a frustrated growl. "I have to go," she tells him despondently. "I have to return before Father and – before Father realizes I left."

He dutifully helps her to her feet, the noble prince he is, and his hands never leave her waist. "My moonlight," he murmurs, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "May I kiss you?"

Yes – yesyes _yes_.

It the only thing she never knew she wanted, needed, _desired_ above all else.

Replying to him seems tedious and a waste of time, so instead, the maiden brings her lips to his. It is not a kiss, not really, because she does not know how to do that sort of thing. Arithmancy and runes are fine – easy and predictable even – but kissing boys? Princes? Soulmates? That was something entirely new and wholly unpredictable and it scared the hell out of her.

Her lips brush against his, lingering for half a breath, before she pulls away. She keeps her eyes closed to relive the moment for as long as time will allow before she must leave. But then he takes her next breath in his and pulls her bottom lips between his, sucking gently on it.

The kiss is over before she knows it and she is left dazed.

"When can I see you again?" She asks him, her hands tracing the sharp angle of his jaw, and the tiny pricks of his facial hair growing in excites her.

The prince laughs a wonderful, melodious laugh and beams down at her, brushing a thumb across her lip, pulling it down and tracing her bottom teeth.

"Soon," he promises.

* * *

_While the kingdom of magic was busy planning a welcome feast and a wedding, the dark forest as teeming with animosity. Soon, there would be a reckoning and because the joyous wizards and witches were too focused on a promising future, they would not see the storm brewing and threatening to vanquish it all._

_The young maiden was fearful of her curse and the harm it would cause others through her, and she was reluctant to let her prince sweep her off of her feet and out of the forest. She thought that after spending her entire life cooped up in an ominous place, that she would bolt at the first opportunity to leave it behind. But there was always the promise of her demon coming with her – and with it, the destruction of everyone and everything she loved._

* * *

Her father looks distraught and the shadows under his eyes suggests that he hasn't slept in days. The maiden clears her throat and asks if there is anything that she can do to help him, but he waves her away.

"No, my exquisite lily," he says with an exasperated sigh. "Do not worry about me,"

"Is it," she pauses to teeter on the balls of her feet. "Is it because of me? Is it because of my curse?"

He stands and tosses the book he had been reading aside, then crosses the room to settle his icy blue eyes on the young girl with untamable curls and unbelievable power.

The maiden blinks up at him; she always noticed how dissimilar her features were to her father's.

With her wild brown curls' far less capable obedience than she, and her big brown, curious eyes. While his black straight hair always slicked back into perfection and his eyes, eternally sharp and piercing, a shade lighter than the clear sky.

When she was younger, he would tell her it was because she resembled her mother more, but he hadn't entertained any questions she had about her mother for years now, and so she stopped asking them.

"Is it bothering you, the demon?"

What an incredibly ridiculous question, she thinks. Her father is usually cleverer than that, but he does seem exhausted so perhaps he's not thinking clearly.

"No more than usual," she tells him with a guilty shrug. "He lets me hide when he takes over nowadays… I don't want to see the havoc I wreak because of him, not after – not after Hugo."

Her father nods, and then places a bony hand on her shoulder in near-perfect mimicry of what her demon would do when he commands her around the labyrinth of her mindscape, ordering her to enlighten him as to what secrets and memories lie underneath the mysterious lake or within the dark forest.

"It is probably for the best, my iridescent orchid." Her father says. His grip tightens momentarily, bringing her attention to his hooded gaze. "But you must always do as he says, understood? Let him have his way and you will be fine."

"What if – He is always causing damage and destruction. What if he decides to inflict his evil on people?" She panics, scared that the very notion seems inevitable.

The older the young maiden has become and the more powerful a witch, the more the demon expects her to do. As she mentioned to her father, by some miracle the demon grants her the bliss of ignorance, but she knows there is something wicked and vile stirring in his otherworldly body that he will ultimately unleash on the world via her as his unwilling host.

"A curse is a curse, my gentle sunflower. It cannot be helped."

Her father gives her one last wistful look before returning to his book by the hearth. She observes that in the span of the few minutes that they had been talking, he had somehow regained all of the energy and life that had been drained of him earlier. His complexion is flawless and his eyes twinkle as the sunlight catches them. In fact, if she were to squint, she wouldn't even be able to make out a single wrinkle – not that he ever looked like he aged anyway.

How peculiar.

She begins to contemplate what might have caused her father to regain his liveliness – there hadn't been a potion in his hand, had there? – as she wanders toward the kitchen in search of breakfast.

_No need such thing, child._

"Why not?" The maiden asks, frowning at the bowl of fresh berries.

On the other side of the small cottage, her father doesn't even look up at her sudden uptake in conversation; she presumes it is because he has lived with her curse for as long as she has and is used to the occasional one-sided discussions.

_I will make you feel full._

"That's hardly the same thing," she notes.

_I don't care. Outside. Now._

She sighs and gives in to him, if for nothing else, to stop the painful scraping of his claws against her bones as a way to hurry her along into whatever he wished her to do next. As the demon promised, she is no longer hungry the minute she turns away from the kitchen and leaves the cottage behind.

 _Up the hill_.

She does as she is told, hiking up the sharp incline and huffing heavily once she is at the top. She remembers learning to duel up here with her father, but it has been well over a year since the last time she visited it.

"What are we up to today, O Treacherous One?"

A sharp pain shoots up her spine and settles in the base of her neck, causing her to flinch and writhe reflexively.

_Do not mock me._

"Yes," she gasps. "I'm sorry."

_I thought you no longer wanted to bear witness to our undertakings. Is that no longer the case, child?_

"No," she mutters, shaking her head vigorously.

_Then, by all means, leave me to my business. Go to sleep._

The young maiden closes her eyes and welcomes the black abyss that takes over, falling into a deep and uneventful sleep. As it is, dreaming is far superior to waking these days in her opinion. However, unfortunately, there would be no glimpses of her golden boy during this sleep. There would be… nothing.

She wakes in her bed and winces at the immediate pain humming throughout her body. There are cuts and bruises all over her fair skin with mud and blood covering her dress. She notices that none of it appears to be originating from her, though the thought doesn't settle her nerves. What has she done now? What has her demon done?

The maiden pokes around her mind for her demon but he is nowhere to be found which is peculiar because usually he takes sadistic pleasure in being there when she wakes beaten and frightened. The spell to heal her wounds and clean her clothes is routine and she quickly waves her hands over her body before getting out of bed.

In the room across from hers she can see her father examining an oriental throw that doesn't look even remotely familiar, but before she can open her mouth to ask what it is, he wraps it around himself and immediately vanishes.

Her eyes go wide and she gasps but then the door to his room shuts and she feels pain immediately prickling behind her eyes. The maiden flees the cottage and runs for the sanctity of her beloved lake. It is there that she struggles to take in air and will her hands to stop trembling.

The neigh of a horse alerts her to someone coming, and she flashes a grateful smile when she sees the distinguishable head of blond hair with a gleam of silver flashing between the golden strands.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he breathes as he hops down from the white stallion and takes her in his arms. "I thought you might have been injured. It was so close to you, right on the outskirts of the kingdom and – I'm just so glad you're ok," he says as he runs his deft hands through her curls. "You have no idea how worried I was." He pauses to look at her and she blinks up at him, still a bit on edge but mostly confused. "What's wrong?"

"I - " She blinks. "Wait, what did you say happened?"

"There was a fire," he replies solemnly, all the while brushing his hands up and down her bare arms. "An entire family was killed – with an unforgivable curse – and their house burned down to ground."

"Unforgivable curse?" She asks, her tongue heavy in her dry throat.

"Yes," his eyes are dark, and she recognizes the look as thoughtful. "There are three – each of their own evil and entirely banned from wizards or witches using them because, well because they're inexcusable."

The maiden feels a sense of dread sitting uncomfortably in her stomach, but she presses him, "What are they?"

"Well, there is the cruciatus curse which inflicts excruciating pain on the recipient, torturing them," he tells her, and her mind begins to reel making her feel dizzy; she recognizes the name because it sounds an awful lot like _crucio_ which she recalls her demon teaching her some years ago.

"Then, there is the imperius curse which places the victim under mind control essentially by causing them to perform whatever the caster wants without question," he says. The maiden exhales shakily but doesn't recognize this one and feels slightly better for it.

But then the prince goes on and the dreadful tingling in her muscles returns with a vengeance.

"Finally, and most notably, there is the killing curse which was causes instantaneous death. The spell, _Avada Kedavra,_ is only as powerful as the caster which is as dangerous as it is relieving. An amateur wizard may only cause a nosebleed on its victim, but an experienced and highly skilled wizard could easily slaughter entire families. It's why the kingdom is currently in chaos over the Potter's."

His eyes are dark and hooded because, understandably, the subject matter is sensitive and bothers him deeply. The unforgivable curses are, as he said, not to be taken lightly and not for the light-hearted, either.

The maiden, however, falls between his arms and sinks to the sodden forest floor, gasping for air. The last curse is unfortunately very recognizable to her; she doesn't have to ask him if there is a violent flash of green light when the spell is cast because she knows that there is.

"Hey," he says, immediately kneeling beside her. "Are you alright? I won't let anything happen to you. I won't let anyone use any of these terrible curses on you, ok? Never. I promise you won't ever have to witness their horrors."

She swallows with difficulty, daring to meet his steady gaze. "You can't promise that," she mutters.

"Moonlight," he exhales, brushing his knuckles down her cheek. "I swear - "

"You can't promise me, Draco," she interrupts. "Because I'm afraid I am already too familiar with them."

His lips fall open and his brows furrow in confusion, but the maiden is already shaking her head at him as she pieces together her unquestionable whereabouts.

"The family," she begins, pausing to gather herself together. "The one who - "

"The Potter's," he repeats, hanging his head and shifting to sit beside her and wrap his arms around her. "I wasn't very close with them, per se, but they were a prominent noble family and whose history was interwoven with mine."

"How?" She asks.

"You have never heard of the tale of the Three Brothers?" He ventures. When she shakes her head, burying her face in his neck, he strokes the curls away from her face and tells her the story. He ends with, "My family keeps the Elder Wand well hidden, of course, and no one has seen the Resurrection Stone since – well – in a very long time which is why the Potter's being targeted and with the cloak of invisibility unaccounted for, fear is running rampant in the kingdom right now."

"Draco," she gasps, sitting up straight and detangling herself from him. "This – This is – We have to go – I know – Oh, god what have I _done_? – Why would Father – and the Stone?"

Her mind was shattering the glass that had been carefully put in place to protect her from anything her demon had done recently when she disappeared within herself to sleep. There were flashes of green, screaming people, and the same cloak her father wrapped around himself before vanishing. It was all too much.

"My, my," came a hideous voice from behind. "Is there where you've been running off to, my delectable daisy?"

Her father crooks one of his telltale smiles at her, but there is something infinitely more sinister about it, and it strikes her as vaguely reminiscent of her demon.

"Father…?"

"Hm," he notes, tilting his head to the side to peer at the blond prince standing up beside her. "Interesting. I didn't even have to coerce you into handing me the final piece of the Hallows."

"What - "

"My clever lotus," her father interrupts. "Surely, you've figured it out by now?"

_Or, would you prefer me to enlighten you?_

The voice that had once haunted her every hour, scraping its nails against her skull and digging its claws into her thoughts, suddenly didn't sound quite so ethereal or ghostly anymore. The hooded figure in her mind with its blaring red eyes morphed into her father; his figure standing tall and smug as he revealed himself, the hood falling at his feet.

Her mind snapped her back to reality with a forceful motion.

"You," she seethes.

"Hm, yes." He replies nonchalantly. His smile creeping at the corners of his mouth, twisting the knife further into her heart. "Me."

"Moonlight," the prince whispers, taking her wrist in his grip and edging her backward to stand behind him. "That's not your father. It can't be."

"Very clever, young Malfoy." The man who was her father but apparently not her father applauds him. His eyes glint as he produces a wand from his breeches, leveling it at the prince's head. "Do you happen to know _who_ I am? I'm very curious to know if I'm as famous as I last recall being."

"You are," he replies, voice clipped. His own wand is raised at the dark-haired wizard opposite him. The young maiden watches, unable to produce a wand of her own for never having owned one, and the prince goes on, "It was only after you arrived that I finally placed the ring on her finger. I'm genuinely surprised you chose to give it away, Lord Voldemort."

"Yes, well, I needed her to do a few errands for me and some of them were quite perilous. Kidnapping and retraining a new witch or wizard seemed so tedious, so letting her die and bringing her back over and over again felt much easier. Less work." His eyes slide over to the young maiden he raised, and she is gaping at him. "About that ring, child," he says, voice low and threatening. "I will be needing that back."

"No," she defies.

"No?" He challenges with a chuckle. "Perhaps, you simply need a bit more convincing? You were always weaker for your compassion and thus easily manipulated because of it." His wand flicks toward the man at her side, sending him flying backwards.

Luckily, he was prepared for the attack and staggers to his feet, casting spell after spell at the dangerous man. The maiden, still piecing everything together, stares at the duel and struggles to work out what she can do.

The man who had raised her – and tormented her and tricked her for entire life – was advancing on the man who vowed to love her and care for her – with the added notion of being her soulmate to prove himself – and it wasn't until a green spark left the end of Lord Voldemort's wand that the young maiden realizes what she has to do.

She dives in the line of fire, throwing out her arms to deflect the curse and although it still strikes her core, it also rebounds to the caster. The man lies as lifeless on the forest floor as the young maiden, and the prince hurries to her side, utterly distraught.

" _No!_ "

He picks her up, cradling her in his arms and holds her to his chest. "No, no, no." He brushes her wild curls away from her face, cupping her cheek and rubbing his thumb across her cheekbone. "Please, Moonlight, please," he begs, grey eyes flickering to the ominous onyx stone on her finger. "Come back to me," he murmurs, burying his face in her neck an inhaling the sweet scent of gardenias. "Come back to me…"

* * *

_What the young prince didn't know was that the Resurrection Stone requires time, especially when the cause of death is especially powerful or traditionally irreversible. The young maiden's body was not merely unbreaking bones or replenishing blood, it was mending her soul._

_The maiden was returned to the kingdom of magic with her beloved, Prince Draco, and the entire kingdom mourned for seven days and seven nights as her sacrifice from the malevolent lord was honored. On the morning of the seventh day of her apparent death, the young prince went to her chambers and sat beside her bed._

_He refused to leave her side the entire week, but that morning was especially the hardest as it was the longest any witch or wizard believed the magic of the stone to be useful. How could it possibly still bring her back after all this time? They would say. She must be gone, young prince. Let her go._

_But Draco refused. He rubbed and rubbed at the black gem gleaming ominously on her delicate, pale fingers in the hopes that something would happen._

* * *

The young maiden spent a questionable amount of time lost in a dark abyss deep within her mind, but after a long while, she finally saw a door and as her curiosity always got the better of her, she went through it without hesitation.

"Oh, my," a woman cooed upon her entrance. "You are so beautiful, and all grown up."

Beside the woman stands a lanky man with short brown curls swept carelessly out of his thin-framed face. He looks down at the woman tearing up in his arms, then smiles shyly at the young maiden.

"Hello," he greets.

She blinks, "Who are you? Do I know you?"

"No, no," the man shakes his head as the woman stifles a quiet sob. "Unfortunately, you know us no more than we know you. You were taken from us far too young."

The girl chews at her bottom lip, eying the polite couple with open skepticism. They stand in an all-white oblivion which seems about as strange as the interaction.

"Father?" She ventures, and when the man nods, her gaze slides over to the teary woman who is undeniably her direct relation upon closer inspection. "Mother?"

"Yes," she chokes.

The man rubs her shoulders affectionately. "I'm afraid we don't have a lot of time," he tells her with a sorrowful smile. "I wish we did, but you do need to be returning to life any minute if you have any inclination to do so."

"Oh," the maiden nods. "Right." She feels a bittersweet smile pull at her lips. "Will I see you there? This is just a figment of my imagination, correct?"

"No, my daughter." He laments, and the woman buries herself in his neck, shoulders shaking with each racking sob. "We are long dead. The evil man who stole you from us came back some years later to tie of that particular frayed string in his plan."

"I'm sorry," she replies despairingly.

"No matter. Go on and live a long and happy life now, you deserve it. We'll be here when it's over."

The maiden turns to leave, seeing a new door, glowing with potential and life, appear to her left. "Wait," she turns to see the couple one more time – quickly etching their faces into her memory – and blinks at them, nervous. "What is my name?"

The woman, her mother, wipes a tear away from the corner of her eye and steps forward to embrace her daughter. The man, her actual father, does the same. He backs away to let the mother cup a frail hand around her daughter's cheek.

"Hermione," the woman informs her. "Your name is Hermione Jean Granger, and we love you."

Before the young maiden, Hermione, can tell them how she loves them and how she has always longed to know them, the glowing door bursts open and swallows her up.

* * *

_The princess awoke from her deep slumber and embraced firstly by her beloved and betrothed, and then by her kingdom as they rejoiced in the magic of the Hallows for bringing her back to them._

_There was no body ever recovered from the forest of the evil lord which made Princess Hermione and Prince Draco especially anxious, and so they agreed that they would continue searching for him and in the meantime, she would not take of the ring he had gifted her._

_However, the rest of the kingdom's people were elated to have the young royal couple alive and well and together. They celebrated for nearly an entire fortnight and showered them in gifts and affection. Even the king and queen were delighted to welcome a new daughter, and after her true identity was revealed, they were adamant about implementing new measures tying the muggle and magical world together so that another child would never be lost to the dangerous grey area between the two._

_The prince enlightened his beloved that she was not cursed after all. The imperius curse inflicted by the lord who kidnapped her had taken the form of a demon in her mind and while it had tormented her for nineteen long years, he promised he would never let her suffer another day because of it._

* * *

"Are you ready?" Draco asks her as he steps into the spacious bedchamber. The light catches his golden hair, illuminating it brilliantly as well as the beam stretching across his beautiful complexion.

Hermione returns his wide smile with ease, finding her days of recent to be much more lovely and full of happiness. "Of course," she replies, placing a sweet kiss on his lips and reveling in the taste of mint that was so _him_. "It's hard to believe the day is here already."

He smirks at her, tugging at the white lace hanging off of her shoulders. "We can always postpone it and find something else to do today?"

She laughs and pushes him playfully away, "We've waited this long, Draco, surely you can wait a few more hours?"

He shrugs, still toying with the fine, rich material.

Hermione sighs, her hands tugging at his blond hair, bringing his face down to hers and taking his next breath in hers. "I can't wait either, but we must."

"I suppose," Draco laments. Then he sighs and backs away from her with great effort and holds out his arm for her to take. "Come along then. The church awaits, and God is not very fond of tardiness from what I'm told."

"Oh, is that so?" She challenged, smirking up at her love.

"Yes," he places a quick kiss on her jaw, "It is so. And also…"

She blinks up at him, "Yes?"

"I love you, my moonlight," he says, bending to brush his lips against hers.

Hermione sighs into his mouth, curling her fingers around his, "As I love you, my golden boy."

_The End…_


End file.
